


Hold On

by Harry_louis_zephyr



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom
Genre: Almost death, Crying, Guilt, Hospital, Love, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Multi, Pain, Pills, Romance, Sadness, Suicide Attempt, Truths, Worry, ambulance, hypoxia, larry stylinson - Freeform, tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harry_louis_zephyr/pseuds/Harry_louis_zephyr
Summary: This story is inspired by the song Hold On by Cord Overstreet.Louis is looking forward to tonight; in some days, One Direction will officially start their hiatus. He'll be spending tonight like he has been spending since the last few days. Eating a ravishing dinner, watching Netflix, then sleeping beside the love of his life in his heaven on earth, that is his and Harry's home. If he gets to be like this for his entire life, he'll consider his prayers answered.Or maybe he'll have to pray a lot, lot more.P. S. —Give this a chance?





	1. ‹1›

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this chapter is small, but it's just the beginning. Let me know what you think about it. Please! And let me know if you want me to update it soon.

First came darkness. A dimmed haze initially, smothering all the lights seconds later. The gnawing wetness clawed at him, scraping his skin of its smoothness. It was cool, but it burned his insides all the same. He didn't know what was worse, the dawning terror that he was incapable of helping himself, or the constant ringing that reminded him that he didn't want to anyway.

¢¢¢¢

All Louis feels is ecstasy. Coursing through his veins and fogging his intellect, but he can't restrain the flush in his cheeks anymore. The stupid grin that is pasted on his face. A few more days of contracts and boundaries, then he'll be free. The mere idea of it makes him want to jump.

One direction is taking a break. They are finally taking a break. For once, he'll be at peace with the mornings, and the nights, and not to mention the entire course of afternoon hours, followed by the bleak evenings. He certainly enjoys the fame, the love he receives. At times, it becomes rather a laden to carry around. He knows his flaws, he knows his mistakes, he is aware of his not enoughness, and sometimes it's hard to fathom how people love him despite all of that. Sometimes he tries to step away from it, knowing in the back of his head that he doesn't deserve so much.

But, after all these years, he is sure he deserves one thing at least. He and his band mates deserve a break. While making music feels like home, he can't help but wish it would feel a little more homier. All the flashlights and tabloids and boundaries make him lose the pathway he's supposed to follow to reach that home. The restrictions steer him away from the direction. He's lost a friend because of it, he doesn't want to lose more. Between all the ecstacy, he suddenly feels a pang of sadness at the memory of Zayn.

He turns the steering wheel right, turning in the corner. He is returning to his London house and that makes his lips inadvertently curl into an endeared smile. There is one thing other than music that makes him feel like home, and that's Harry. Where ever he is. He's glad it's their flat he'll be spending tonight in. 

It's not always that he gets to. Its a rarity the management let's them stay in their home together. But as the date of their hiatus is nearing, he's been spending most of his nights in their home after work. He loves it. All of it. The dinner that is being cooked when he arrives, the dimpled smile on Harry's lips as he serves it. The romantic comedy that plays on Netflix through the night as they both watch it cuddled against each other.

He loves it, when he wakes up in the middle of the night, the noises from the television disrupting his slumber. He loves it when he sees Harry cuddled against him. He loves it when he has to carry him up to their bedroom, drape the coverlet on his shoulders and kiss him goodnight. He wonders if Harry wakes up in between his shuffling and simply enjoys being carried up in his arms. Or if he actually sleeps through it all, oblivious and vulnerable.

After some more minutes of driving, he parks his car in the underground parking of his apartment building, glad it's in the better part of this county. Safe and peaceful.

He heads straight for the lift, entering it hurriedly when he sees it closing and presses the button with no. 9 written over it, happy to know no one is accompanying him in the lift. He needs time to collect some of his thoughts. That, and he can't let everyone see the foolish grin that doesn't seem to waver from his face. He can't wait to meet Harry. He can smell the sweet scent of his muffins already as the lift accelerates upwards. 

Once out of the lift, he takes long strides towards his home, keys jiggling in his coat pocket already. He fishes them out, jutting them in the keyhole and unlocking the door. 

"Evening, Hazza!" He shouts, closing the door behind him. 

A certain gloom overcomes him when no one returns his greetings with their blissful cadence. His heart almost skips a beat. He isn't sure why, but it could be the fact that no smile welcomes him tonight. No sweet scent lingers in their cosy apartment, and most of all, it could be the fact that their apartment feels eerily empty. Suddenly, so does his heart.


	2. ‹2›

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has mentions of suicide and can be triggering. Still, I urge you to give this a chance. I've not written it to glorify suicide but help someone realise how it's certainly not the only solution.
> 
> If I can help even just one person from this, my purpose here will be fulfilled.
> 
> I'm sorry for all the inaccuracies there might be, I'm writing this for my own psychological relief, too.

To drown,  
even without the water.  
That's more a brutal death,  
and slower.

¢¢¢¢

Louis keeps the keys on the counter of his open kitchen, he does it absent-mindedly. His eyes and mind wander everywhere, searching for signs of life. His eyes rake the deserted living room, but the blanket spread on the couch, falling halfway on the floor, the fire that's crackling in the hearth tells a different story. Harry had to be snoozing there after coming back home from the studio. He had been exhausted today, all day, and Louis had offered to drop him home himself, and only then go about his plans with Niall, but Harry had refused. He had pecked louis' cheek, assuring him he'd be fine and had left earlier. Louis had believed him.

Louis figures Harry had to be sleeping not long before he arrived, and has scrambled over to their bathroom after being alarmed by a full bladder. Louis chuckles to himself, he had always had that problem. He roams around the house for a bit, looking through his fridge to see if a cold pizza is left there to munch on. Harry hasn't even started the preparations of dinner the yet, and suddenly Louis doesn't want him to either. They'd order something, but Harry doesn't have to work anymore. And surely not after looking drained the entire day.

He walks over to sit on the armchair by the hearth, thinking of the expression Harry's face would make while he tried to argue take out over homemade meal. Harry would surely protest. The warmth creeps up from louis' arms to his cladded chest, and he wants to remove his coat, but he doesn't do it. Harry always removes it from him, and something in the air seems colder anyway. 

"Niall's going to come over." He shouts suddenly, hearing the faint sound of running water. "Idiot missed his flight to home, and no flight was available before tomorrow." He adds, straightening his back. He reasons acquainting Harry with their circumstances today, so he can easily pave the way towards the idea of ordering something. He could eat anything that's cooked by Harry with a stupidest grin on his face, even if it's scorched, but today is an exception. "Its not my fault though, we touched down before the deadline, but Nialler doesn't know how to read of course, read the bloody time wrong." He laughs, opening the laces of his shoes.

He removes each of them, quietly this time, and keeps them right beside the hearth. Normally he would have thrown them haphazardly, only to get that quick chiding out of Harry about how important cleanliness and being organised is, but today he wants Harry to come and see how Louis doesn't always ignore his preachings. That, and he also just wants Harry to be back and not do anything other than laying with him on the couch. 

He slowly removes his socks, too. Folding them and stuffing them in the shoes. He sits back for a while, trying to regain his composure, but a certain thought torments him, and he suddenly scowls. "Harry?" He shouts expectantly, craning his neck to look at their bedroom door.  
It's closed.

He jumps up, marching towards the door. He knocks it once, then twice. "Harry, are you in there?" He calls, softly. A voice in the back of his mind tells him if he talked with the inflection louder than this, something might just break. His knuckles rap on the door yet again, but the lack of response only clenches his heart. "Harry? Hey, I'm—it's Louis. I'm coming in?"

He takes a deep breath, his heart is now louder in his ears. Turning the door knob warily, he pushes the door ajar just a little. He doesn't even understand why he's being so cautious of Harry's privacy today, it's his bedroom too. He can barge in. He doesn't.

The darkness that greets him sends shivers through his spine. "Haz, I'm coming in." He announces quietly, and slides inside, leaving the door open. The lights in the bathroom are on, golden hues seeping from the crevice of the closed door. Louis almost sighs in relief upon seeing them. Harry is here, and the thought alone settles a peace within his heart. He can still hear the faint running water. 

He looks for the switch beside the door and turns the lights on. Their bedroom illuminates in a golden hue as well, and Louis blinks fast to clear his obscure vision. He slowly pads towards their en suite bathroom, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips at the thought of hearing Harry's voice.

"Haz, you're in there, yeah? I was worried..." He stops in his tracks, stunned by the wetness beneath his bare feet. As he moves closer, he realises the water is seeping out from under the bathroom door. Swallowing hard, he moves closer. "Haz?" He calls out, knocking the door with his knuckles. "Harry?" He shouts now, as a sudden fear clutches at his heart. "Harry, are you in there, please answer me!" He raps hard against the door. "Are you alright?!" 

Louis leans in, putting his ear on the wooden surface. Anything, any sign. A slight hum, a faint 'I'm okay', anything that can ease his mind, slow his pounding heart.

"Harry, I'm coming in!" He yells, pulling at the door knob harshly. The colour drains from his face when he realises the door is locked. The cold water beneath his feet is pooling, drenching his lowers as well. "Harry, please! Open the door, it's not funny!" He raps again, twisting the knob frantically. "Harry!"

He takes a step back, millions of thoughts running through his mind. There's no other way. He swallows, hard. Trying to guzzle down the fear that's threatening to prevent his muscles from working. Taking another step back, he braces himself, hauling towards the door another second. The door doesn't budge, but there's a buzzing in Louis' ears and his right shoulder aches. He repeats the action, once, twice, four times before a certain click alarms him. He takes a shaky breath, and pushes the door open, stepping in the bathroom hastily.

And then an ear splitting scream leaves him, echoing in the bathroom walls, mixing with the sound of running water. He's screaming as his knees hit the wet floor, he's screaming louder than his lungs ever allowed. He's screaming when the neighbours barge in, their faces obscure because of his tears and the fear that reverberates through him.

And he's screaming when the ambulance finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for for reading. Please tell me what you felt about this, and if you want me to update sooner.
> 
> Leave some kudos, it will only take a second to make my dooming day :')
> 
> All the love!
> 
> And I'm sorry to all the people who love Harry. Including me. This story has nothing do with him, is not about him, he's just another character I've taken and added my flair. All he deserves is love and kindness and I pray and pray and always pray he remains the magnetic charming self that he is.


	3. ‹3›

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Thank you for leaving kudos and reading this! It means a lot!
> 
> Feel free to comment and tell me what you think, I do take criticism also, you know.
> 
> All the love!  
> _________________________________

The light from the street lamp falls through his windscreen, bathing him in silver. His face, the tears frozen on his cheeks, they glisten.

There have been moments in his life when he's felt like this, like he's someone else, and he's standing, watching his life play before him, watching it go by. He grounds himself at those times through something, or someone, there's always someone to assure him he's here, he's fine, and he can take it all. He's strong enough. Even if it's a moment of giddiness, a little assurance always helps him.

It comes from the simplest things most times. A blanket he's used for four years, a t-shirt he wouldn't throw. Most times he is able to ground himself through those.

Tonight isn't one of those most times. He's never felt this scared, and the pounding in his ears doesn't stop. His heart doesn't stop beating, even though he wishes it would. It would be better this way. He could take it if his heart stopped. Better him than Harry.

He's parked beside the pavement, the ambulance has long since left him behind, he can't even hear it's sirens now. The hospital is still a couple blocks away but he can't bring himself to drive anymore.

So he's parked on the roadside in the dead of night, alone aside from a few cars that rush past him, without noticing the man who's sitting inside, whose life is crumbling at the seams. The streetlight flickers once in a while. The way his faith is.

"Please." He chokes. His knuckles are placid from clutching the steering wheel. "Please, let him be okay. I'll do everything, I'll give up whatever you ask, just let him be okay."

The paramedics didn't let him ride with them. They said the patient was critical, and needed immediate care. Any hindrance or delay would mean a life slipping out of hands, quite simply. Louis had nodded, as they shut the door in his face after lifting up the gurney.

All this while following the ambulance with his car, and he was going to go out of his mind. Not knowing what was happening behind those doors was driving him insane. That's why he had stopped, parked the car and let the ambulance get out of sight.

He needed some time to process.

It failed, of course, because right now all he can process is his desperate need to scream.

"Please." He mutters again, slumping his head on the steering, closing his eyes for a little more than a second.

"Alright." He sniffs, straightening his back and wiping his nose from the sleeve of a coat. The coat one of his neighbours draped around his shoulders out of pity.

His own he had wrapped around Harry, though he didn't really having any recollection of it. But the last time he had seen him on the gurney— pale, his curls dripping wet and pasted to his forehead—Louis' coat had been hanging on his lanky frame.

He had moved to brush the curls away, but the paramedics had stopped him, instead covering Harry's face with an oxygen mask.

"Everything will be alright." Louis says to himself, sniffing a couple more times. He rubs his face and trying to get rid of the wetness on his cheeks, but instead spreads it all over his face. He can't care any less. "It's alright, he'll be okay. It's nothing. We'll be okay."

He jerks his face up when his phone vibrates on the dash board. Niall's name flashes on the screen, and Louis realises with a stab in his chest that he's not informed anyone about this.

Does media know about this? Is it all over the news? He doesn't remember seeing any flashes when he had ran out of the apartment after the paramedics. There were only a few of his neighbours, staring at him with piteous eyes, sorrowful faces. Some hands that had steadied him. No flashing lights. He would know, won't he? He would know if there were, right? Harry's safe, isn't he? He's away from all of the hideous media, he's away from it for now.

He picks up the call just as the phone's going to stop ringing. "Niall."

"Hey! Louis! I called to tell we're coming home in fifteen, Liam's coming—" He stops when he hears Louis' breath hitch. "Louis?"

"Niall." He's weeping again, silent tears merging with the fallen ones. "Niall, come to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Niall echoes incredulously. "What—why, what's happened? Louis?"

"I don't know, just come to the hospital. That Mary one, okay?" He rushes, not stopping to take a breath. "Just come there, please. Please Niall, I'm going there too, I'm going to be there in ten minutes, just come please. Please. Please Nia—"

"Louis. Louis, please. Calm down." He says gently, not sure how else he's supposed to talk sense into Louis and pull him out of his frenzy. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I'll bring Liam too, alright? Calm down, take a deep breath."

Louis sighs into the phone, taking a deep breath. Niall hums with him, assuring him he's there. He swallows his unasked question. He wants to ask where Harry is, but his heart clenches at the thought of what the answer would be. When Louis is only sniffing every now and then, he disconnects the call, telling him one last time that he'll be there before he even knows.

 

When Louis is in the lobby, it's awfully quiet. It's almost doesn't fit with the chaos that's ensued in his mind. The receptionist sits behind the table, poised and content, working. It's nothing to her, the knowledge that Harry must have been pushed through the doors here a couple minutes ago, some frantic looking doctors prodding him. Louis feels sick thinking about it.

He approaches her nonetheless, pushing past the urge to send her a reproachful glare.

"Miss." He calls out, folding his arms on the desk. It comes out croaky, just above a whisper. She looks up distractedly, and her face softens upon seeing Louis.

"Hello," She says gently, and gives him a quick nod. She is respecting the silence here, the silence Louis unknowingly demands. "How can I help you?"

"My... My b—friend, my friend was brought here—"

Her eyes widen, but she blinks when Louis frowns.

"Are you with the guy who's here for the case of drowning?"

Louis swallows, "Yeah." He exhales, shifting his weight on the other leg. "Yeah, that would be me."

"Oh, alright, just a minute, you just need to fill out some formalities." She stands up, and fumbles through a couple of papers, brandishing a pen and a board before him. "Put your signature here after you're done filling." She smiles ruefully. "I'm sorry about whatever happened. I'm sure he'll be alright."

He wants to say that she doesn't know that, but stops and passes her a half smile. It's not like they know if things are worse than they look. For what it's worth, she could be right. Everything will be alright.

He fills up the blocks, Harry's name and his age, his previous medical issues, allergies he might have. His eyes flicker over where you need to tell your relation with the patient, and he's not sure what to write.

If he does, the hospital would know. The media would know, won't they? He's in love with Harry, and he can't lose him. The media would know, everyone would know. Everyone would know about the lies he's told. What is he of Harry's anyway? They had never discussed what they were to each other. Never before. There had seemed to be no such need.

He leaves it empty then, and the receptionist doesn't question it. She asks if he has called Harry's parents and Louis shakes his head, another wave of dread falling over him, pulling him down. How can he tell Anne?

The receptionist tells him to sit in the waiting room and he does, quietly lowering in the metallic chair. Hoping, praying that everything will be alright. Praying that no one would know of their secret. Not the media, not the world, no one. He's locked it away, his little secret. He's in love with Harry, and he can't ever lose him.


	4. ‹4›

Niall and Liam arrive an hour later, looking frantic and on an edge. They find Louis immediately, it’s late in the night, and there are only a couple of people sitting in the waiting room.

There is a lady, middle aged, sitting in a plastic chair right beside the door. She flinches when Liam enters with racing footsteps, Niall following right after him, but when she realises it’s not the doctor, she slumps in the chair again. Most people remain unchanged, some sleeping, and some just unbothered by the frantic steps, but it’s the guy who looks like he is in a stupor is what catches their eyes.

Louis is sitting in the far corner, arms crossed against his chest like he’s trying to keep his heart in place, his head bowed down, staring unblinkingly at his sneakers. He looks small in the coat that’s draped around him, it’s shoulders slipping down. 

They approach him rather quietly, mindful not to startle him at least. Liam takes a seat beside him, melting in the coldness of the metallic chair, but doesn’t say a word. Niall tales the cue, and crouches down, keeping his hand on Louis’ knee. 

“Mate.” He says, raking Louis’ features. Louis doesn’t acknowledge him verbally, but he closes his eyes. “It’s alright, we’re here.”

The question that is on the tip of his tongue, he keeps it in. Its visible if Louis is to look at either of them, he’d see it in their eyes. Liam’s face is screaming the question Niall’s dying to ask, but neither of them dare to.

Louis wipes his face, suddenly out of his stupor, and sniffs a couple of times. Liam didn’t know he was crying, it wasn’t visible in the dim lights of the waiting room. “He’s, he’s inside. No one has spoken to me, just a couple of nurses told me to stay put.” Louis manages, his voice cracking.

“We went to your house before we came here.” Liam announces, his eyes flicker towards a concerned looking Niall, who’s still crouched down beside Louis. “It was unattended so we locked it, the house. Here’s the keys.”

“Oh.” Louis looks up, wiping his nose with the sleeve. “Oh, it’s not my coat, it’s ruined.” He chuckles, “I—yeah, thanks.” He says, finally taking the keys. “Thanks, I didn’t realise the house is left like that—I’m sure Mrs. Lana would have looked after it. I’ll have to ask her, it’s probably her coat as well—”

“Lou.” Niall says suddenly, his voice carrying a little accusation. He squeezes Louis’ knee tighter, like it’s going to transfer some coherence into him. “What happened?” He finally braves to ask.

Both of their hearts shrink when Louis buries his face in his hands, a choked sob racking through his chest. “I don’t know what happened.” He chokes, the heel of his palm digging in his eyes. “I just found him like that—in the bathtub—I don’t know—” He gasps, and Liam drapes his arm around Louis’ shoulder, letting Louis slump against his chest.

He takes a few gasping breaths, crying on Liam’s shoulder with his hair disheveled and his face blotchy.

Niall is scared even though he wants to stay optimistic about the entire situation. He’s scared because he didn’t even get the time to process all this. Hell, he doesn’t even know what the entire situation is, but he’s scared to the point he can’t even meet Liam’s eyes.

The only time he’s seen Louis cry was when Harry had blamed Louis for breaking his heart, blamed him for everything they had to put up with, and had yelled that Louis was the reason he was hurting so much, storming out of their dressing room. Louis had cried, but those were stubborn, angry tears.

Anger about how insensitive Harry’s words had been, how he had overlooked every difficulty Louis had had to endure all these years to make their relationship work. Anger at how helpless he felt, how stupid, that he had no idea how him and Harry would come back from this.

Niall was worried this would result in the end of their band itself. They were, after all, both young and naïve, conceding more towards the destruction than the solution of things. 

But they had worked it out, there had been a few days of cold stares, some thin lipped conversations, but however young and naïve they might have been, they had worked it out.

Harry had been the one to approach first, keeping all the ego, the hurt aside. He had been the one to knock twice on Louis’ hotel room while he was getting ready, barging in without waiting for an answer, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He had been the one to not give a single fuck about everyone that was in the room with Louis, Niall included, and had kissed him.

Harry had giggled into the kiss some time after, mouthing something that was still a secret between him and Louis. Niall can’t ever forget the smile that had broken out on Louis’ lips after that, his lips almost touching with Harry’s.

It wasn’t like everything became better after that, or easier, but they were together, and that was enough for them. Niall hasn’t worried much since then. 

Until now, because seeing Louis so defenceless is something he never thought he’d ever witness. Last time the tears were of anger, but the one Louis is now trying to frantically wipe off his face, those are laced with a fear that is surrounding all three of them. He doesn't know what they fear, and he doesn't want to know either. 

Louis straightens, wiping his face again, which is now flushed. “I’m so sorry.” He coughs, and sits up straighter, “I just—I should tell you. I’d have to—I’d have to tell Anne and everyone else as well. I—”

“We’re here, Louis.” Liam interjects suddenly, with some urgency in his voice, like he needs Louis to know this, and he can’t assure him enough. Niall understands, because now that Louis has said he’d have to tell Anne, it’s an indirect confirmation that they are here because of Harry. 

“I know.” Louis closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. “Everything has happened so fast, I’m so disoriented, I’m sorry.”

“Its alright.” Niall says, passing Louis a small smile. “We are here all night.” He says, and there’s something inside of him that knows that Louis’ state is not the only reason he doesn’t want to know what happened anymore. 

Louis nods, burying his face in his hands again and sighing. He takes a steady breath, and wipes the last of wetness from his face. “After I dropped you off I went to my house, and it was really quiet inside. I thought that was odd, you know?” He says, his red rimmed eyes wide.  “Because Harry had been cooking for some weeks now, since we are getting wrapped early nowadays, whenever I used to get home he’d be like, singing or cooking something.”

“Yeah,” Liam nods, smiling ruefully at the memory of Louis gushing about getting to eat homemade food. “You told us about it.” He vividly remembers the times Louis has emphasised the words ‘Harry is cooking tonight.’ these past few weeks. 

“Yeah, and—I mean I brushed it off really, because Harry was so exhausted today, I thought he must be sleeping or something.” Louis sniffs, slumping against the chair. Niall stands up to come sit in the empty chair on the right of Louis. “And—and I just—I just heard—I was thinking how we would have some fun time today and I’m so stupid.”

“Louis—”

“And I heard this water running? And I thought maybe Harry is bathing or something, and I went to check on him. I don’t know what happened after that, I was just so scared because he wouldn’t answer. There was so much water and when I finally opened the lock he was just—he was just lying there in the bathtub, in the water—” Louis says, his voice cracking again. “I thought he was dead. I thought he was dead, Niall.”

Niall just stares at Louis, unable to form any words. He doesn’t even understand everything, but when his eyes meet Liam’s, he sees the same fear reflecting in them.

“I got him out of the water but he wouldn’t open his eyes. I don’t know what was happening, I kept screaming his name.” A shudder passes through Louis at the blurred memory, and he looks down. “I don’t even know how long he was in the water.” He says finally, hiding his head in his hands, because he’s on the verge of breaking down again.

Liam gestures Niall to get some water, and Niall nods, quickly getting up and getting out of the waiting room to search for a bottle or a water cooler. When he comes back, Liam is talking to Louis in hushed words. Louis looks better, whatever the definition of better is, but if holding it together enough that you don’t look like you’re about to cry any second is better, then Louis has aced it. Niall found a canteen just outside the hospital, the one the receptionist told him about, and now he has a capped water bottle and two wrapped sandwiches in his hands. He plops down beside them, keeping the sandwiches on the chair, and tries to catch on to what they might be discussing.

“Here.” Niall says, giving Louis the bottle. “Have some.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Louis nods distractedly, keeping the bottle between the gap of his thighs. “I don’t know, li.” He says then, continuing what he was talking about earlier. “I asked him if he was okay before he left the studio.”

“He seemed a bit off.” Niall interjects.

“Yeah, but—he said he was tired, that’s all, and I checked if he had fever and he didn’t.” 

“Then why do you think it happened? Do you think he slept in the bathtub because he was tired?” Liam asks, his brows furrowed. Even said aloud, the words feel wrong. Another wave of an undecipherable fear washes over their hearts. 

“That’s not possible,” Niall says timidly, “I saw a documentary once and they say if you sleep inside the bathtub and the water rises up, your brain wakes you up before anything can happen.”

“Did he faint in there, then? Do you reckon that could happen?” Liam asks, staring at Louis.

Louis opens his mouth, but gasps and stands up. Liam looks round to see a nurse in blue scrubs approaching them, and he stands up as well. Louis runs to her before she even closes half the distance between them. Liam and Niall follow right after.

“Is he okay? Can I see him now?” Louis asks immediately, trying to get past her. “Just tell me where he is.”

“Mr. Tomlinson, please.” She says, checking the clipboard that’s resting in her arm. Her dark hair are tied in a taut bun, and she purses her lips before talking again. “You can see him, but not now. Before that you should come with me, Doctor Shane will acquaint you with the situation since you’re the one listed as his emergency contacts. And besides, only family is allowed to see the patient—"

“I am family.” Louis says without missing a beat. He can’t care about his privacy, and he feels a bit of guilt for staking Niall and Liam’s privacy too, but he can’t let that come in between, he’s too selfish when it comes to Harry. He just wants to know if he's okay, he just wants to see him, touch him, love him until he can't anymore, and then just a little bit more. He just wants to see his Harry.

“Yeah, they live together.” Niall chimes in, giving Louis a small smile when he looks at him wide eyed.

“And Harry’s mother will be here in no time.” Liam says. 

The nurse eyes them all skeptically, huffing and giving them a curt nod reluctantly. “Okay," She eyes them one more time. "Come with me.” She says, beckoning them to follow after her quietly.


	5. ‹5›

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update!
> 
> Please give me your feedback!
> 
> This could be intense?  
> And triggering, as well.  
> Please read it with caution and if you need to talk, you can always bug me.
> 
> All the love.

The truth is, we never truly know anyone.  
Not even the people we are illuded to love the most.  
Life is a world within this world, and of it, you can't ever tell.  
The person who seemed so sure of his actions, at all times, was in reality dying inside, and you were oblivious to it all this while.

¢¢¢

They stand in a small grim room with dimmed lights. Their faces are sullen, faces that speak of a night gone without a moment of sleep, and an indelible fear.

Louis gulps visibly when the nurse leaves the room, and although that means he'll have all his answers now, he is suddenly feeling exposed.  
Dr. Shane was talking to the nurse in quiet whispers, flickering a piteous look in the boys' direction every now and then. Louis doesn't know whether she was talking about something regarding them, or just found it sad that three young boys were standing timidly in her cabin, looking like they were heaving the sky like Atlas itself.

Dr. Shane straightens the moment the door closes, looking very business all of a sudden. The piteous look is suddenly wiped off her face, it's stoic, the way Louis wants to be right now. Remain shit off, not show any emotion, but his face doesn't stop betraying him, constantly showing the state of his heart, crumbling at the seams, no matter how hard he tries to keep it at bay.

"Mr. Tomlinson, please, do sit. I'm Mathilda Shane, I'll be looking after Mr. Styles." Dr. Shane says, her eyes flickering between Niall and Liam. She beckons them all to sit as well, but Liam remains standing, seeing they are one chair short, and he doesn't want to bring any delay. "I hope the patient's family is well informed about the situation here."

"I—"

"Yes." Liam cuts through, not trusting Louis to keep up with their pretences. "Yes, his parents are coming in some time."

"Well, would you like me to wait for them?" She asks, her full lips pursed in a thin line.

"No, it's fine, I'll inform them once they're here." Louis says urgently, "Please just—just tell us—is he alright?"

Dr. Shane sighs, and when she slumps back in her chair, her demeanour fading, she looks younger in the dimmed lights. "Boys, I'm going to be honest here, I'm sorry this has happened. My staff informs me that you're not regular people here, I mean, forgive me for intruding but press will be involved?" 

"No!" Louis answers quickly, leaning towards the table. Liam's hand presses on his shoulder, grounding him. The presence of a tense Niall sitting beside him is reassuring as well. "No, I—we don't want that. We're in a band, but we'll speak to our managers, your hospital won't be dragged in, you won't be, but you'll just have to cooperate, just don't let it out that we're here, it will be fine. We'll make up a story. Its not uncommon."

"Yeah, leave it to us." Niall chimes in.

"Okay." Dr. Shane nods. The few grey in her hairs are somehow reassuring to Louis, like they speak of experience, and to know that Harry is in experienced hands is kindling a hope in his cracked heart. 

She nods, an understanding in her eyes. "We'll see what we can do, of course." She says, keeping her hands on the table. "Were you with him when it happened?" She asks abruptly, staring at Louis.

Louis nods.

Her eyes flicker between them all once again.

"Before I tell you, you'll need to tell me what happened exactly how you remember it, Mr. Tomlinson. It will help us, of course, and it will help you understand the situation better."

Louis nods again, very clipped for it to even look like he's moved his head. "I—" He starts, taking a shuddering breath. He's aware Niall is looking at him intensely, and although Liam has a grounding hand pressed against his shoulder, he's not sure how he's going to repeat tonight's events with details.

"I came home," He says, closing his eyes briefly to recall correctly. "And it was really quiet, I thought Harry would be sleeping but he wasn't anywhere around."

"I see."

Louis swallows, brushing his fringe away. "I heard some running water from our—er—from our bedroom and I thought he was bathing, maybe, I don't—yeah, I thought that, so I went to check on him. I don't know, I was just scared."

"Why?" She asks promptly, her frown deeper. 

"I just was." Louis provides with a shrug, trying not to meet her eyes. He's still scared. He's never been so scared that he loses all his defences, all his guards. He's never been this timid, this weak around people. He swallows one more time before continuing, his throat feels parched. Maybe he should have drank some water when Niall had given him.

"I just wanted to see if he was fine and went in. I called for him a couple of times but when nothing came, I got more scared—and I—I broke the lock of the bathroom, then, and well, well he was not conscious. He was in the bathtub and the water—the water was—the water was full and he was —he was in."

"He was drowning, you mean." She says, her voice gentle.

"Yeah, I think so." Louis shrugs, fixing his hair one more time. "I don't know how long he was in there really. I don't—I did try to wake him, the paramedics—when they—er—when they came he still wasn't awake and they said something about giving CPR but I don't know—I—yeah, I don't know if I gave him that, I don't remember really."

She nods, "It's alright." She says, taking the lid of the glass that's kept on her desk. "Here," She offers him, stretching her hand out to him. He refuses, but she insists and he takes it, keeping it on the table without having a sip. 

"I get the picture." She addresses each of them, but her gaze fixes on Louis again after a moment. "But listening to your side, I reckon you don't really know much of what happened. I'll tell you about his condition now, just don't be scared, he's in good hands, and we're trying our best."

Louis nods, but he can tell from the way Liam's grip has tightened on his shoulder, that this isn't good news at all. Telling him that he doesn't have to be scared has had the opposite effect on him, and now he's about to cry. They are trying their best, that's a phrase he never thought would break his heart. When Niall's hand comes to hold his, he accepts it gladly. 

"It seems to me that Mr. Styles were already unconscious before he started to drown." She says, and her voice is now softer, like she knows how breakable Louis is. He hates it. He hates every moment of this. "Involuntary apnea, this happens when a person is drowning, it's a way of the body to save itself from further damage." She explains slowly, although not much is being processed by Louis. He tries, however, because it's for Harry and he should know. He has to know. "Apnea means holding your breath, and while drowning this happens on its own, otherwise the lungs will fill with water and that will lead to a faster death. You only breathe once you're on the verge of losing your consciousness, and you can't hold your breath anymore, which has other complications, of course."

"Okay." Louis nods, his voice barely a whisper. 

"But that's not what's happened with your friend," She says then, her pitch a little higher than before, like it's affecting her too. "Which is rather surprising. And we've found out that it's because he was already unconscious before he even started drowning." She finishes, and Louis let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He was already unconscious. Had he fainted? Was he more tired than he let on? Why couldn't have Louis just accompanied him when he left? How can Louis be so stupid? So eternally stupid.

"And because he was already not conscious," She starts again and Louis has to bite his tongue to not say 'Oh, joy, you're not finished yet'. But he knows there's more, and this doctor is being nothing if not cooperative. "Nothing prevented his lungs from filling with water as soon as his mouth and nose came in contact with the water."

"This just keeps getting worse." Niall's voice resonates in the silent cabin. Louis should thank him for voicing his thoughts, but out loud they're confirming what he could have easily denied, shove in the back of his head and come through. Niall squeezes Louis' hand when Louis doesn't react to any of the words, and simply nudges the doctor to continue. Dr. Shane slumps in her chair with a sigh, and rubs her temple with her index, her elbow on the arm rest.

"I'm waiting for Ms. Reya to bring me the X rays." She tells them, pursing her lips again. She moves to tell Louis to drink some water, her eyes almost pleading. "I'll ask for more water." She says, looking at Liam and Niall.

Its okay, they mean to say, but none of them says it.

The door open once again to bring in the terse looking nurse from before and a white envelope clutched in her petite hands. She keeps it on the table. She waits for a beat to lean in and whisper something in Dr. Shane's ears. Dr Shane's eyes grow wide, and she looks alarmingly at the nurse, but then the same resigned look settles on her face and she dismisses her, telling her to bring some more water in here.

"These are the x rays of Mr. Styles' lungs," She opens the envelope, taking out a dark plastic looking sheet. "The water in the lungs irritated the pleural fluid, and that's the fluid surrounding the lungs and chest cavity, and that's why his lungs are filling with this fluid." She holds the X ray high, near the lights, glancing at them to be sure it's visible to each of them. "See, you can see here, the fluid in his lungs," She gestures at the white wisp of cloud near the two lungs, making the right one near invisible from the end. Louis' lips part, trying to form words, but the doctor saves him from it.

"This is a condition called pulmonary edema—in this case, it's happened from near drowning. It happens when excess fluid fills up the lungs, and here it occurred when Mr. Styles were in the bathtub, their lungs filled with a lot of water. We have drained the water from his lungs, but it had already caused irritation in the pleural fluid—that's again, the fluid present in the surrounding of the lungs, and right now we're still in the process of draining the fluid out, as we speak."

"Is there more?" Liam dares to ask, almost sensing that there is. His heart sinks when she puts the x ray inside and nods, directly addressing him now. Her fingers cross against the table, and she leans further.

"I should familiarise you with the treatment and medications before you are allowed to see him." She says, "He's been incubated, that's because he can't breathe on his own now, and he's sedated right now, will be until we drain the fluid out completely. It could take a while, depending on how much it's required, and if, well, if the drainage doesn't help then we'll have to resort to surgery. For now there are less chances of that. And going into this more, there could be some brain damage, seeing that his brain wasn't getting any oxygen for so long, plus he was unconscious. He could have gone into cardiac arrest if you hadn't pulled him out in time. He's very lucky." She licks her lips, as if gauging her chances to give a final blow. To see if the three boys can take more than this. "Tonight will be crucial, but again, consider yourself lucky. He's fortunate you got home in time." 

Louis closes his eyes, wetting his dried lips. No one speaks, while the doctor stares at each of them. His eyes are drooping from fatigue, but somehow he's never been more awake. The door opens and a man comes in, keeps a tray on the table and leaves without uttering a word. Perhaps he realises that breaking the silence will mean more than just that.

"Do you guys have any questions?" Dr. Shane presses, her eyes almost pleading when she looks at them. 

Louis swallows, taking his hand out of Niall's grasp. "When can we see him?"  He asks, his voice cracking.

"Not right now, but we'll inform you. It shouldn't take much time, but there are fixed timings for visiting in the ICU, because we don't need any hindrance, of course."

"Okay." Louis nods finally, and gets up, getting to move out of the cabin because it's too suffocating. Liam and Niall follow suit, and while he's having difficulty cooperating, they are mindful to thank Dr. Shane before leaving and running after a dishevelled looking Louis.

"What is she saying?! Why does she keep saying that?!" He looks round at Niall, who is trying to hold him by his arm.

"Louis—"

"'He's lucky, He's fortunate' what the hell does she mean?" He asks, yelling just above the whisper and yanking his arm out of Niall's grip. Liam covers his mouth his hand, watching Louis become flush with anger. "She just kept telling us the worst things that happened to him and she's saying we shouldn't be scared? What does it even mean he can't breathe on his own? I want to see him Liam, I want to see him, why won't they let me see him!"

Niall wraps Louis in his arms, where he stays limp for a moment, but then he is hugging Niall back with the same force. "I didn't understand a thing she said, Nialler." He says, his voice muffled against the crook of his neck. He looks up to see Liam still standing with his mouth covered, and beckons him to join the hug. He's aware that the doctor was being completely honest, keeping nothing from them, the good and the bad, but he can't help himself. He can't help but blame her for everything that is happening. "I didn't understand a thing."

"Its alright, we're here." Liam says, rubbing Louis' arm, finding warmth in the arms of his best mates.

The warmth doesn't last long though, as their hug is broken by Dr. Shane's voice, which reverberates in the hallway, calling Louis out.

"Mr. Tomlinson." She says, only half her body visible through the door. "Can I talk to you for a second," She glances between Liam and Niall, then adds. "Alone?"

The three boys exchange worried glances, but then Liam pats Louis' back and tells him to go, while he'll take care of the management. Niall promises to call Anne until he's in there. Although Louis should be the person to give the news, he's sure Louis isn't ready to do it anytime soon.

"What is it?" He asks, entering after her. She gestures him to close the door, and he shuts it behind himself, feeling the dread wash over him once again. 

She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, pushing her hands inside her coat pocket. "Louis, I don't know how else to put it." She starts, and Louis gets shivers down his spine by the mere sound of his name from her lips. "I didn't want to discuss this in front of everyone, and taking into account, what you told me, I don't think you knew better, there's really no easy way to put it, but we found sleeping pills in his system." 

"What?" He asks, his mind running a hundred miles. His voice comes out almost squeaky.

"Yes." She sighs, walking across the table to get a file. "His blood tests revealed it. We pumped his stomach to get rid of most of the drug from his system. We're guessing he wanted to drown himself. That's the reason why he was already unconscious. If anything, the sleeping pills only helped him through a miracle by preventing dry drowning, which could happen within seconds."

His jaw clenches. "I don't understand a single thing. I'm sorry, but this isn't true." He says firmly. 

"Louis, I'm really sorry, alright? I'll talk to a psychologist in the hospital who will be with Harry once he wakes up. You don't have to worry about that."

"You keep saying it." He grits. "I'm telling you, he doesn't even take sleeping pills, he sleeps just fine! Your reports must have been exchanged or something."

"We pumped the drug out of him, Louis. His blood had traces of the Ambien drug, and that's one of the prescribed sleeping pill." She says, opening the file and showing him the reports. It all feels alien to him, a foreign language, although the words positive printed near drug overdose tighten the lump in his throat. "The drug levels in his blood were less, but the ones  in his stomach were so high, it's obvious he took the pills before he went in the bathroom, there's no reason why he would be unconscious otherwise."

Louis shakes his head desperately, his mind trying to find different reasons. Anything, anything at all that proves him right. "That's absurd," He says breathlessly. "You're just making things up—" He shakes his head, even though the reports are right in front of him. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"Alright, you don't want to believe me, or the reports. Then tell me, was he lethargic the whole day? Did you feel he was a bit moody or maybe even exhausted?"

Louis pales. Harry _was_ exhausted. But that didn't mean anything, right? They all were more or less tired from overworking, but it was alright. Harry had said he was alright and just needed a bit of rest. This was absurd, there was no way Harry would set this all up. There was no way he would set this all up to—

"Mr. Tomlinson?" Her eyebrows shoot up, taking his silence for an easy answer. "It's alright, it's not that everyone is aware of the side effects of taking sleeping pills without caution. All I'm saying is there is a fair chance he overdosed on sleeping pills, deliberately so, and tried to drown himself after that, there isn't any other explanation that serves best here."

"Miss Shane—doctor, look, I'd know if something was wrong—" He says, hands flailing everywhere to prove himself in some way, heart pounding so loud he feels it will explode. "He never said anything to me. Couldn't it be that it happened by mistake? He could have taken the pills, alright, I'll consider it for once, but couldn't it be that he took it and slept in the bathtub unaware?" His eyes are watering. He sees Dr. Shane's face through his bleary eyes, looking piteous as always. "Please, Doctor, don't jump to such conclusions, please."

"I'm really, really sorry, Louis." She says then, her voice resigned, and no matter how much Louis wants to blame her for all this, he can see how sorry she really is. She keeps a firm hand on his arm, keeping the reports aside for a moment. The wrinkles by her eyes are more profound as he stands close to her, the sincerity in her eyes visible. "I have been working here for a long time now, and this isn't an every day story for you perhaps, but it is for me, I know a suicide attempt when I see one."

Louis breathes slowly, pathetically. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, or to swallow himself whole, but neither works, nothing ever will with Dr. Shane's words jabbing at him. Nothing ever will when he suddenly feels he's finally stripped of all lies, when he's finally seeing the truth.

"Please don't disregard this," He listens as she says, "I thought he might have an history, but seeing your reaction I'm sure it's just as shocking to you. My guess is, he had taken the pills before today, and when that didn't help he took them tonight, and to make sure it doesn't end in another failed attempt, he tried to drown himself as well. Whatever is the entire truth, we'll only know once he wakes up. I'm really sorry you have to go through this. I really am. You live with him, don't you?" She asks, a motherly affection in her gaze. It makes him want to tell her everything, everything that has happened, everything that him and Harry have been through. He says nothing, in the end, just nods dumbly.

She sighs again, speaking softly. "There will be complications, Louis, okay?" She says, "There will be some problems, but you just have to help him through."

He'll just have to help him through. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some kudos if you liked it, would only take a second to make my dooming day :') 
> 
> Also, I apologise if there are any mistakes.
> 
> Thank you for reading and giving this your time.


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